


suicide in your arms

by Specialtea



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Chapter 5 Spoilers, Gore, Hurt No Comfort, Major character death - Freeform, One-Sided Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Other, Self Harm, and his confession to hajime about wanting to be loved, basically just komaeda’s thoughts in the warehouse in chapter 5, character study ig, hes just so complex man i love him, just kinda exploring komaeda’s character and ideals n stuff, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Specialtea/pseuds/Specialtea
Summary: In his final moments, even with everything he believed in at stake, Komaeda couldn’t help but think of Hinata. Couldn’t help but wish he could live, that he had more time. All he really wanted, more than hope, more than truth or death or freedom, was to be loved.He was so disgustingly selfish.(Title from Arms Tonite by Mother Mother)
Relationships: (one sided), Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	suicide in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This oneshot was written in an emotional haze after seeing @caeryn on instagram’s recent artwork of Komaeda right before his chapter 5 death, my embedded links are broken but here’s the post URL, you should check it out: https://www.instagram.com/p/CI_mU_ZFnNw/?igshid=1kz186awvblft

It had to be timed perfectly. 

Too early and he could die from his wounds before the plan was complete, too late and someone might see and attempt to save him before fatal damage had been inflicted.

Everything was ready, he had the others running around trying to find “bombs” and a time limit that gave him approximately ten minutes until they’d return to the warehouse, and then a few more until he would die. Shakily, Komaeda picked up the roll of duct tape and wrapped a strip of it over his mouth and all the way around his head, throwing the rest of the roll against a wall where the fire would later destroy it. Komaeda breathed in through his nose, hoisted a length of rope over his shoulder, and began setting up his restraints. 

He worked quickly and silently, trying his best to keep his mind empty of anything other than his plan lest he back out. What a pathetic thing to do, right? To know as much as he did and be presented with the opportunity to fix everything, only to back out at the last minute. But Komaeda didn’t fear death, so it would be fine. He ignored the way that his bottom lip trembled at the thought, instead choosing to focus on throwing the spear over the pipe he wanted to hang it from. Everything was in place.

Komaeda sat on the ground and began to tie the ropes around his ankles, making them harsh and biting as if they were tied by someone with absolute contempt for him. Though, he supposed, they were. If he hadn’t seen the proof, Komaeda would’ve laughed at the idea of himself being Ultimate Despair, he’d made the mistake of thinking he was at the very least better than to stoop to that level. This was his redemption, this was how he’d make it up to everyone he’d hurt. By eliminating himself and the rest of the remaining Ultimate Despairs, even if... one of them was the person he cared about most. Even if they were all people he’d considered his friends, people who would spend their final moments cursing him for an action they’d never understand him taking. Tears brimmed in his eyes for a moment and he sniffed, wiping them away carefully. If he cried it’d dampen the tape, and he needed it sealed to muffle the pathetic sounds he’d make in the minutes to come. 

Maybe Monokuma would explain his motive before they died, offer him that little bit of peace in the afterlife. They wouldn’t understand it, people who wanted to live tended to excuse their actions like that, but at least they’d know. Komaeda tied down his left arm with a single, steady hand, and reached to his side to grab the knife. This was it, there was no turning back, he was ready. He was immobilised now, which meant once the others arrived and knocked down that lighter there’d be no escape, he’d die from the gas regardless. _So was the torture really necessary_?

Of course it was. Both to complicate the trial and to make sure his luck swung in his favour when the time came. After his success in the final dead room, he couldn’t be certain that his cursed talent wouldn’t turn against him and meddle with his plans. By forcing himself to experience the misfortune of torture, he could game his talent into coming through when it mattered. 

Or at least, that was what he told himself. In truth, the burning rage of his renewed self-hatred would’ve brought him to this whether his luck was in a positive swing or not. 

Komaeda gripped the knife harder, taking a sharp breath and raising his hand before plunging the sleek metal into the flesh of his thigh. Again, and again, and again. Tears pricked in his eyes and he bit down on his lip to stop himself from instinctually crying out as his arm moved back and forth, his vision spotted pink. _This was what he deserved. It was what they all deserved._ Once he was satisfied with the messy, gruesome gashes on his thighs he carefully transfered the knife to his left hand, taking another calming breath before slamming his right palm down on the blade. He moved his hand back up to his right side with the blade still trapped in his palm, and the image was almost complete. He tried to wiggle his fingers, and registered manically that he must’ve severed a tendon when his middle finger refused to move.

It was almost time. They’d arrive any minute now, and the moment they did Komaeda would release the cord and send the spear plunging into his stomach, then he’d be alone with nothing but the pain, the flames, and his thoughts until the poison finally ripped his soul from his body. Komaeda’s breathing was ragged and his mind was foggy as he fought desperately to avoid passing out from the pain. He needed to stay awake, he wasn’t done, it wasn’t _ready_. He wanted to see them all through the flames, just one last time.

He wanted to see Hinata one last time.

Komaeda couldn’t help but laugh, a pathetic wheeze against the seizing in his chest. He was weak, convictions not even solid enough to squash his affection for a talentless, hopeless, useless murderer. He tried to focus, but the topic had already breached his mind and all he could think about now was spiky chestnut hair and dull green eyes. All he could think about was the way Hinata had smiled at him before the killing had began, how those eyes had become so confused and had brimmed with anger once he’d discovered Komaeda’s true character. How hurt he had looked when Komaeda had returned from the Final Dead Room and insulted him for the first time, prodding at his insecurities and feeling morbid satisfaction at the pain reflected in those green eyes.

How his expression would contort with hatred in the moments before his death. Briefly, Komaeda wondered if Hinata would care at all that Komaeda had died, if he would cry when he saw his corpse. He almost wanted to live a little longer, just so that he could see the reaction before he passed. So he could know where he stood.

He felt a teardrop slide uncomfortably down his face into the shell of his ear, and tilted his head to try and get it out. On second thought, no. Komaeda was selfish at heart, he’d rather go out with the delusional idea that Hinata loved him in return than see the truth, the relief in Hinata’s eyes when he found Komaeda’s body and knew he was finally rid of such a useless, worthless, disgusting creature. Another tear, and Komaeda shook his head as he blinked them away. 

He could hear footsteps, voices, and all at once his heart seized. _I want to live! Please, somebody, help me, I don’t want to die. I’m sorry!_ The panic quickened his pulse, and Komaeda watched the blood begin spurting faster from the gashes in his legs as the door slammed open. Komaeda shut his eyes tightly, and the sight went from black to red as the fire raged around him and lit up the room. Komaeda’s fingers trembled around the cord of the spear, his instinctual self preservation willing him to keep his hand tightly closed around it until someone, anyone, came to help. Pleading selfishly with his luck that it might choose to spare him from death.

He grit his teeth and let out a scream he hoped was concealed by the flames, letting go of the cord and letting his eyes snap open as the spear plunged into his stomach. Nagito’s breathing quickened, forcing his mouth open and sucking adherent tape into his mouth, sticking to the insides of his lips as he hyperventilated. It was all panic, now, and tears rolled down his eyes faster as he realised this was the end. A cruel, cynical part of himself scoffed at his disgusting behaviour, ridiculed him for not being able to keep his composure in the face of something as sickeningly normal to him as death. For betraying everyone with his selfish desires to live, to love and to be loved. Didn’t he always talk about being a stepping stone!? Didn’t he invite people to kill him, didn’t he welcome the embrace of death? Didn’t he want this, to finally be free from the clutches of his talent? And yet...

Komaeda turned his head to the side, staring through the flames for a glimpse of his friends. For a moment, the pain faded, the sound of his hyperventilation was ignored, and he watched as Hinata reacted openly, beautifully, to the chaos. He was so honest, so georgeously selfish. If Hinata had known what Komaeda knew, he wouldn’t have done this. Hinata wanted to live, and he would’ve, along with his friends. Hinata was fiercely loyal and inspiring and _adorable_ , as he scrambled around for something to put out the fire with. 

The group rushed from the building, and Nagito was pulled back into the present, the roar of the fire, the pain, the end. He looked back up at the roof and idly wished Hinata was the traitor, so that he would get to live. Though he knew that wasn’t the case, Hinata’s file already stood out too much, it’d be far too obvious. His six remaining classmates came running back into the room, and Komaeda watched each bottle as it was thrown, as it sailed through the air, as it smashed to the ground. He saw the bottle thrown by Nanami hit the ground and dispense a cloud of purple gas, and he hummed quietly to himself. So that was it. 

He inhaled, and the poison felt heavy in his nostrils and in his throat, weighing him down and suffocating him as it rolled into his lungs. He felt himself growing weaker and his eyes instinctively widened, but he was at least smart enough not to fight it this time. In his mind, the title Ultimate Hope hung above him like a twisted reward, and he wheezed. The fire fizzled out in time with Komaeda’s vision, and in the silence that followed his final words died in his throat before they could be spoken.

“I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just headcanon that despite all his talk about how he’s willing to be killed and how he thinks his life is meaningless, I think by the end Komaeda just cares about his friends and Hinata and wants to be with them. I really wanted to explore Komaeda’s ideals and his desire to help and be recognised by eliminating the ultimate despair and his self-hatred and desire to die and be free of his talent, and the conflict with his more “selfish” and recent desire to live because he actually has a reason to and because he wants to be loved, you know? I feel like his character is too complex to just be one or the other, and I don’t think Komaeda even knew what he wanted most, so I guess this is a bit of a character study for me. I belted this out in 2 hours, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> You can find me at @5pecialtea on tumblr.


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